


This Too Shall Pass

by painted_pain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/pseuds/painted_pain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You feel like you’re dying, being pulled apart, limbs stretched and severed, stretched so tight you’re about to fly apart in every direction and disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Too Shall Pass

Jimmy said it’s like being chained to a comet. He was wrong. It’s like being consumed by a supernova, white hot heat eating your soul, so cold it numbs your mind. For a moment you forget who you are, forget you’re Sam –  _younger brother, Dean’s brother, apocalypse starter._  
  
You aren’t chained, you’re incarcerated, stuck in a splintered prison, suffocated and smothered. You are dragged through the burning, collapsing star, riding a shockwave of nuclear energy and your limbs are on fire. Your eyes are orbs of flame and the pain pierces through you, like shattered glass and it aches, bone deep.   
  
You are hauled through the centre of the supernova, fast and furious, over and over, an interminable loop that makes you feel nauseous but you move so fast you imagine you’re in stasis at the heart of the star, of  _Lucifer_ , and you can’t understand why your mind hasn’t broken yet, held under by the strain.  
  
You feel like you’re dying, being pulled apart, limbs stretched and severed, stretched so tight you’re about to fly apart in every direction and disappear.  
  
The worst part, you realise, is that it also feels like being born again, being purged and rising from the ashes, nothing but extreme power and exhilaration, filled with liquid energy, a rush that cannot be compared to demon blood in its supremacy. This is why you haven’t gone mad because the pain feels so good, too good because while it pulls you apart, it also makes you whole.   
  
You hate how alive it makes you feel. You resent the power. You wish Jimmy had explained it better, made you understand, because you don’t know how much longer you can take this.   
  
‘I don’t want this,’ you think, and Lucifer’s insidious laugh echoes in your head, slow like molasses and cold, slipping into you, sliding over your mind and his Grace, as twisted as it is, still feels like a benediction.  
  
You don’t want this. You don’t want this conflict, this contradiction of Lucifer’s power.  
  
You still see everything. He wants you to see, see him destroy the world – destroy your small, imperfect world – but time is disjointed and you lose small fragments, moments here and there; it stretches out for infinity and compacts into a second. It’s confusing yet it fills you with awe and you want to see everything Lucifer can see, even though you know to think like that is dangerous.  
  
Lucifer lets you see him confront Michael, who is wearing your brother (because he is, he always will be). You see Michael’s faith in God and feel Lucifer’s desire not to kill his older brother. There is enough vague similarity in their exchange to make you feel on edge and you shy away from their conversation, unwilling to think about the reasons why.  
  
You see Dean arrive with the Impala with the music blaring, smirking at his bravado. You wish he wasn’t here though, even if his presence makes you feel safe, because you know he will get hurt trying to protect you, even if he knows he can’t. This is too big. It’s not just another ghost, another routine salt’n’burn. A couple of stitches won’t fix this.  
  
You still drink up his presence because your heart will always beat to the rhythm of  _‘brother, best friend, mother, father, warmth, love, home, Dean, Dean, Dean’_  and something loosens in this supernova, your splintered cell softening.  
  
Dean is talking to Lucifer and you think ‘Idiot’ with a touch of fondness and a heavy dose of fear. You hate thinking this, but Lucifer is right. ‘This is stupid,’ you want to say, ‘I want you safe! Go away! Leave! Go to Lisa, be safe.’ The words hang heavy in your mind but you can’t say them.  
  
You see Adam –  _Michael_  – approach Dean, calling him “Maggot” and you think ‘ _Run_ , Dean!’ Lucifer doesn’t respond to your words but pushes you down so you can’t see.  
  
You manage to hear the throaty yell of “Hey, assbutt!” from Castiel and the strangeness of his word choice pushes at Lucifer’s pressure. You feel Lucifer’s surprise mix with your own and you laugh hysterically, able to see once more. Of course Castiel is here. Where else would he be, always there for Dean, for him, for the world. You see Bobby behind him and you wish he wasn’t.   
  
You see Michael erupt into holy flames and the abruptness of it shocks you. You are afraid, because you know this cannot,  _will not_  end well. But your emotions are swept away by Lucifer’s own and you are caught up in his overwhelming torrent of rage and annoyance, his wrath. You breach the surface and you know with heart breaking certainty that Castiel will not survive this. You wish you could react, tell him to run but you can’t because it’s not your body anymore, because you said yes.   
  
You see Castiel explode in a sick parody of a firework, a shower of blood, not light, and you are quiet in your disbelief, the suddenness and brutality silencing you. You feel abruptly terrified and guilty.   
  
You hear Dean’s “Sammy, can you hear me?” and you long to say that, yes, you can. More than anything, you wish that he could hear you. You wish this could have gone differently.  
You see your hands throw Dean onto the Impala, slamming him into the windscreen and you yell meaningless noises at Lucifer, struggling wildly. He doesn’t hear you, he doesn’t react.  
  
You thrash about and push against your constraints because you will not let him hurt Dean and you feel like you can push further than before. There are fissures, a delicate spider web of splintered glass, bending and breaking, cracking, tiny hairline fractures that no one can see, not even Lucifer, not even you, but you can feel them and you bury your new discovery with the elation it brings, you bury it beneath the fear for your brother, your desperation, because Lucifer cannot know.  
  
You hear two gunshots and if your body was yours, your heart would be in your throat, your hands would be shaking in fear, because those shots came from Bobby. You don’t want to look but you have to and the snap of Bobby’s neck reverberating across the graveyard, a sound laced with despair. Your scream of ‘NO!’ echoes Dean’s perfectly and you wish you could weep.  
But the cracks spread and you hide it, push it down, focused now.  
  
You see your hand hit Dean with a slamming force and you hear his broken “Sammy, are you in there?” It tears at your heart and you want to react, to scream, to yell, to cry. Lucifer smirks at your inability to from a verbal response and he tells Dean that you are.   
  
The frustration eats away at you and you want to tear something to pieces. You want to rip Lucifer limb from limb, cause him unimaginable pain. Your anger is vast and insurmountable.  
  
“And he’s going to feel the snap of your bones.” The words made you blind with rage and despair because you know he’s right but you fight against him anyway. You push and shove at those cracks, hurling your mind against the barrier, not caring if it hurts. You will not see Dean die, not again, never again.   
  
You yell wordless cries as you watch Dean’s face break underneath your hands and you throw yourself around with reckless abandon, ignoring the effects of Lucifer’s inner supernova, not caring anymore, just knowing you have to break free.  
  
“Sam, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.” The cracks break apart, break open, just a sliver, just enough because Dean is here, he’s here. He won’t let you die alone. He won’t leave you.  _Dean isn’t going to leave you_  and you have never loved your brother more than you do in this moment.  
  
Lucifer pulls back, drawing his fist with him and you know that you can’t let it be the last blow. The glare of the sun off the Impala blinds Lucifer. His eyes fall onto the small army soldier stuck in the door and wind rushes through you, it fills you with warmth because you are reminded of everything. You pour yourself through the cracks, pushing through, making your way to the surface, staring through Lucifer’s eyes staring through your eyes.   
  
Your mind is consumed with love. Your heart soars and the cracks open wide and you overwhelm Lucifer with a flood of memories, of long car rides, motel rooms, of diners, bars, of late nights, good times, of laughter and of tears, flashes of smiles, shining green eyes, of prank wars, quiet moments, of Dean’s music, Dean alive, Dean happy, of everything, of Dean, Dean, Dean,  _Dean_ .  
  
The cracks blast open and you explode through them, throwing Lucifer into darkness, his supernova burning at the back of your mind. You can feel your fingers and toes, can feel your heart race and your head pound, can feel your lungs sucking in air.  
  
You stumble backwards, away from Dean, panting, tasting your freedom in the wind around you.  
  
“It’s okay, Dean,” you say, “it’s going to be okay.” You say it because you know it’s not and you love Dean, so much, too much. You lie because you’re going to jump, you’re going to die and it’s not okay. It will never be okay.   
  
You say, “I’ve got him,” proud yet unsure, unsteady because you can feel Lucifer, can feel him straining to break free, digging into you, scratching, clawing, burning.   
You need to move quickly because it’s almost too much and you don’t have enough time to say everything you want to.  
  
You fumble for the rings in your jeans pocket and hurl them to the ground.  
  
The words of the incantation pour from your lips, and as the wind swirls around you, the ground falling in on itself, you look back at Dean. Dean, who has always been your big brother, your protector.  
  
'You can’t protect me from this,’ you think.  
  
You face the yawning, gaping hole, knowing that this is the only option you have. It’s pointless trying to fight it.  
  
You glance back at Dean, for maybe the last time and you nod your head, more for yourself than for Dean. You steel yourself for what’s going to happen next, heart in your throat, and then over the roar of the wind you hear Michael call your name.  
  
“It’s not going to end this way.” And you think, yes, it is. It has to. This is the only way everything can be stopped.  
  
“Step back!” And you can’t, you  _won’t_ . You have come this far and you will  _not_  give up, will not give in to Lucifer’s screams in the back of your head, the tearing and the burning, so you pour all the conviction and anger you have running through your veins into your words and shout, “You’re going to have to make me!”  
  
“I have to fight my brother, Sam,” and you can hear Lucifer murmur insidiously, whispers of ‘Yes,’ crawling around inside your ears. You can feel his steady desire for revenge creeping under your skin, ticklish and wrong, and you fight back, pushing down.  
  
“Here and now, it’s my  _destiny_ .”   
  
Your chest tightens and your inhale the swirling air deeply. With just that one word, you feel as if the entire world is resting on your shoulders, and maybe it is. You should hate the word, hate the angels and the demons, hate Lucifer and Lilith and Ruby and Azazel, but all you feel is resignation. There is no time for hatred.  
  
For the briefest moment, you wonder what could have been if there had been no destiny and you quickly realise that in that world, you wouldn’t have existed, neither would have Dean, there would be no family, no Impala, no Dean.   
  
You look over at your brother, face bloody and swollen, and would gladly take destiny and the life you have lived over no life at all.  
  
You take a deep breath and spread your long arms wide, eyes fluttering shut. This is it, the moment, the pinnacle of everything that has ever happened and you feel like you’re going to explode out from your skin, like you’re holding everything together. The wind whips around you, an unnatural roar pounding in your ears and you don’t know if it’s from the greedy, sucking maw in the ground or Lucifer thrashing in your head. Maybe it’s both.  
  
Your arms are stretched as if you want to hug the whole world because you are trying to save it, because you are saying goodbye, because you didn’t hug Dean. You’ve accepted that this is what has to be done but you still wish things could have been different.  
  
Michael reaches for you but you are waiting for him and as he grabs hold, you begin to fall backwards, latching onto him and pulling him with you. You can’t hear his shout of protest over the roaring hum but you see his mouth shape around the noiseless sound.  
  
The wind rushes by your ears and it sounds like a scream. You shudder, tipping backwards.   
  
Your eyes wheel around wildly, trying to catch Dean’s gaze, desperate for one more memory to cradle when you’re in the pit. For a moment, just a moment, both your gazes catch and lock. You try to say everything you’ve never said in that small spilt-second, realising it’s not enough, but you try anyway. You never said goodbye, not properly, the words avoided in favour of looks and encouragements and stupid little phrases.  
  
‘I never said I love you, Dean,’ you think, in those fleeting seconds just before you tumble over the edge, ‘and I know you know, but I just wish I had said it, at least once.’  
  
‘I love you,’ you think, ‘even if that makes me the girl.’  
  
You don’t have enough time, the world slipping sideways and you lose sight of Dean and the loss cuts through you like a knife. It’s hard to think, Lucifer screaming like shattered glass, sharp and bright.  
  
You close your eyes as you and Michael finally fall over the lip of the hole, hot air blasting across your face and you can hear screams, growing louder and more frenzied.  
  
You squeeze your eyes tighter. This is it and you feel like you’re going to be sick.  
  
You hear Dean’s voice echo through your mind, smoothing over Lucifer’s spiking sobs, ‘No chick flick moments,’ and you hold the words and the sound of his voice against your heart as you hit hot ground with a sickening slap.


End file.
